Good post - invoked a couple of memories:
A youngish worker of mine when I lived in PGH once opined that if he ever came into a pile - we were chatting about a big lottery prize at the time - said that if he won, he'd get on a plane and check into one of those spas that feed you groats, bean sprouts, etc., staffed by the likes of Nurse Ratchit. The idea being to clean out his head and knock sense into it.
Another is hockey player Mario Lemieux. Drafted 1st in 1984 at age 19, I had read that his family and the Pens conspired to place him with a local family that kept him on a curfew, kept an eye on him, clamped down on his spending loot so that he wouldn't get into the trouble that a fat wallet can get one into.